I wanted to share a few thoughts and memories about Bob. I first met Bob when he was a member of the faculty, then worked with him in his role as an associate dean. About 13 years ago he became the Dean of Campus Life and I served as his Assistant.
One of the first years I worked for him, Bob had me put up a sign on our door: “Laissez les bons temps rouler!” – let the good times roll – as a kick-off to the new year. He was teaching the Greeks and Lysistrata in World Views and would wear a Socrates mask (complete with flowing white beard) to class, and had his students do something called “Parthenon Twister” at the final class. Good times weren’t limited to the classroom, either. He loved props and would start every fall Directors’ meeting with a ceremonial sword and Viking helmet, and bring a talking pig that said “more money, more money!” to our budget meetings. He’d wander around the UC with his megaphone making announcements, “Now hear this, now hear this!”
Bob regularly met with students to help them with their problems, proposals, or to give academic or career advice; he had lunches or coffees with faculty to educate them about the Residential Commons; pored over the budget to see where we could cut just a little bit more. But the endless staff and committee meetings (as reflected on the ubiquitous orange cards sticking out of Bob’s pocket – his low-tech version of a Blackberry), the hours I spent xeroxing articles for his classes, haggles over budgets and the various proposals don’t fully reflect our office or what Bob brought to it.
While Bob wasn’t always the easiest guy to work for (I don’t think he ever did actually create a document on his computer – once Robert Minato was working on Bob’s computer and said “oh, I think I’ve erased all his documents!” and I told him “Bob didn’t have any documents”), what I’ll remember most about the years working for Bob is the humor he brought to the office and the generosity and care he showed to his students – many of whom considered him their “lifetime advisor.” Most of us are familiar with his quick wit -- I’m sure people often wondered what was so funny when they heard us laughing in the office. We’d often have tears running down our faces over some funny story. Our office dealt with some very difficult issues over the years, and sometimes humor is what helped us keep it together.
But what some people might not know is Bob’s thoughtfulness to friends and colleagues. He assisted an employee whose family was in dire circumstances, helped with tuition for a bright student from abroad -- I’ve personally been the recipient of his thoughtful generosity when he bought two tickets to bring my daughter and grandson over for a visit from Macedonia for the summer. He crafted literally hundreds of letters of recommendation to help students continue their education, get a scholarship or land a job. His involvement with students went beyond graduation – he participated in their weddings, they brought their spouses and children by to meet him, he followed their careers and celebrated their accomplishments. I’m sure there are many here who owe their career – and life trajectory - to Bob’s enthusiastic advocacy. He changed lives.
When I think of my years working with Bob, this is what I’ll remember...
* likely places to find the Dean when he’d “gone missing” (Bistro, Travel Center, Bookstore)
* how the Dean enjoyed listening to music ranging from Eleftheria and Diana Krall to gypsy jazz and classic rock and would often call me into his office to listen to a particular passage (“come here, you’ve got to hear this!”)
* the Dean’s passion for Bistro coffee and scones while discussing politics with a student, grading papers, or catching up on some reading
* finding gifts of chocolates on my desk from his most recent travels abroad
Bob was one of a kind – I’m going to miss him.
Colleen Spedale – Assistant to the Dean of Campus Life
Monday, June 6, 2011
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Of Kafka and Coffee – Lessons from Hawkinson
Professor Hawkinson was a major force in my life. He was what every college student dreams of in a college advisor (advocate for exploration, coach for building an academic experience that broadens your mind and opens opportunity, confidant who helps you through the tough times, and caring uncle who keeps you honest and gives you the kick in the pants you need). He was my senior thesis advisor, one of the greatest and most inspiring teachers I have ever had, my internship advisor, the Bistro advisor, and after graduation a colleague in work as a trustee on the Commons, the Solomon Amendment, gender neutral housing, Greek occupancy, the first-year experience, and many other student life changes. And above all he was an incredible friend.
I keep thinking my connection with Hawkinson should be about introducing me to de Tocqueville or my deep love of the civility, intellect and political acumen of The Federalist Papers or the fact that 25 years after reading and discussing the book with him, I find myself in meetings with Federal Agency clients quoting Exit, Voice and Loyalty. Or our connection should be about his support of the student movement for divestment from South Africa or our mutual passion for student-led innovation and an engaging campus life. Or the hundreds of hours we spent over the last 27 years arguing politics . . . But no, it really is all about food.
Several memories that have flooded through my mind since Sunday the 22nd -
The Gatke Office Talks
In the basement of Gatke Hall, central casting has constructed the quintessential set for the beloved and absent-minded professor. Pine shelves floor to ceiling line three of the four walls groaning and creaking under the weight of books, books and more books. A narrow path snakes its way through stacks of books on the floor. To sit you must carefully remove a pile of books from the guest chair, carefully and conspicuously placing the student’s paper you have found in clear view so it might be noticed and graded (more on this later). And in the middle of it all, at a monolith of books (beneath which a desk supposedly exists) was bow tie-bedecked Professor Hawkinson.
Time stopped in the Gatke Office. As Hawkinson focused on your needs, inspired greater effort, gave a good piece of advice or handed you a book that you must read. But our conversations always worked their way to food. Now, truth be told, the Sue Leason buttered popcorn gauntlet could have had something to do with the subject of our talks. But never fail, we would start discussing Rousseau and find ourselves in a comparative analysis of a real Chicago hot dog and the hollow facsimile available on the West Coast. Deconstructing Kafka’s The Trial turned to reminiscing about knish. Or we would find a connection between Federalist Ten and the appropriate perfection of a Vanilla Malt served with breakfast at the Off-Center Café. And it was in the basement of Gatke where tales of the late-night epic Schezuan cooking feats of Hawkinson, the University of Chicago graduate student, came to be known, and inspired many late-night cooking fests among politics students of our era.
The Bistro Plotting, Planning and Tasting
“There is no place to go late at night and good coffee is impossible to find.”
That was the complaint of two Sophomore Poli Sci majors who decided to go see President Hudson. To our shock, Hudson says, “come back in a week with a business plan.” Do we go to the Econ Department for help? No. Do we even think to cross Winter Street to the Graduate School of Management? No. We make a beeline to Gatke and the basement office. Thus begins a year of discussions ranging from, “I used to teach at UC Santa Cruz – they have student-run coffee shops, let me connect you so you can go do research,” to “you know, you should have Quiche and Soup so people can recharge late at night.” Of course, as our official faculty advisor (just as he has been for dozens of student-led initiatives), he served as an advocate, as an offensive lineman when needed, and always as a coach. And back to the food theme, he also provided many a critical thumbs up and thumbs down as we tested recipes.
Tag Team for the American Political Thought Orals: or, what do Red Hook and onion rolls have to do with Selznick?
One of the best classes I ever took at Willamette was Hawkinson’s senior seminar on American Political Thought. Our small group of about 10 students would gather in the Eaton seminar room and debate that week’s reading (ranging from the correspondence of the framers to the use of television to shape the presidency)
with Hawkinson pushing us to express a strong point of view and for others to pose objections and alternatives. What could be more fun? But there remained the fact of the dreaded Oral. 60 minutes of being grilled by Hawkinson on everything and anything covered in the class. As a joke, John Donovan and I suggested to Hawkinson that the two of us should be able to do the Oral as a tag team and that it should be conducted over beers and sandwiches at Brice’s (Hawkinson’s favorite deli in the 80s). Not only did he agree, but he upped the ante: “Ok, but it will be two hours, I’ll come up with tougher questions and if you do well, I’ll buy the beers.” We had a blast. It was a tough exam (but the ability to high-five for the tag team help get us though and indeed Hawkinson picked up the tab.
The Chinese Dinner Ransom Payment
On graduation day, John and I compared notes and realized that neither of us had received our Senior Thesis papers back from Hawkinson. We approached him (resplendent in his University of Chicago regalia — including the very cool velvet beret) and asked about our papers. “Oh, they are safe and sound and you both did well. But I want to give some more comments as this will be the last feedback I give you.” As we packed up for post-Willamette life, we wondered could they be under the wrong pile of books in Gatke? A year passed. We saw Hawkinson at a young alumni gathering. Still safe and sound. Five years passed. “I am saving them as a gift for your 10th reunion.” The 10th reunion arrived and Hawkinson offered a deal: “I am saving your papers for your 20th, but I will cook you a gourmet Chinese Dinner to commemorate their ten-year anniversary.“ And what a meal it was.
Hawkinson came to Portland. Haggled at the Asian markets, assigned chopping and peeling duties to about 10 class of ‘88 alums gathered for the occasion, and made what seemed like a 12-course feast that will always be remembered as one of the best meals of my life.
The Retirement Dinner — otherwise known as the Great Foie Gras Uprising
After Hawkinson’s Retirement, a group of us invited him to Portland, where we would cook a dinner in his honor. Prior to dinner on a warm summer evening, we gathered on the front porch for cocktails and, of course, to talk politics. Suddenly we heard the sound of a crowd with chants, roars and yells. It was coming from Hawthorne Blvd. and Jon Radmacher went to investigate. “It’s a giant protest.” Well of course we had to go and see or participate. We rounded the corner to encounter a crowd of 50 – 100 very loud protesters. What were they protesting? Genocide? Clear cuts in the National Forest? The war in Iraq? No, they were protesting Foie Gras. And for some reason (the poorly written signs, the screaming of violent obscenities at the children sitting in the restaurant with their families or the sense that this was civil disobedience run amok), we committed an incredibly politically incorrect act and entered the restaurant to buy a drink in protest of the protest. We proceeded to have a great discussion on the nature of protest and political voice as well as the power and politics of food.
Food for Thought
Hawkinson fed our minds, fed our hunger for community engagement, fed our expectations of a more civil society and often fed us good food made better with great friendship. He embodied non nobis solum nati sumus – not unto ourselves alone are we born. Every year since I graduated, he has told me about and sought support from the community for amazing students he was helping to get a job (I have been fortunate to hire some of them), students he was helping find a computer, students he was helping go on a summer research experience by raising travel money, students he was helping get an internship and of course students on campus with great ideas he was helping get the support to become a reality. His priority was finding the talent and ability for contribution and community building in each of us and doing everything in his power to nurture and grow this potential. He is and will always be greatly missed. He is and will always be part of the fabric of Willamette. His Legacy will live on in our commitment to support students and to ensure their education in and out of the classroom sends them into the world with the ability and the conviction to have lives of contribution, success and meaning. Bob – Thank you for changing, improving and enriching so many of our lives and our community. There will always be a place for you at our figurative table and in our hearts.
Eric Friedenwald-Fishman Class of ‘88
June 5, 2011
Professor Hawkinson was a major force in my life. He was what every college student dreams of in a college advisor (advocate for exploration, coach for building an academic experience that broadens your mind and opens opportunity, confidant who helps you through the tough times, and caring uncle who keeps you honest and gives you the kick in the pants you need). He was my senior thesis advisor, one of the greatest and most inspiring teachers I have ever had, my internship advisor, the Bistro advisor, and after graduation a colleague in work as a trustee on the Commons, the Solomon Amendment, gender neutral housing, Greek occupancy, the first-year experience, and many other student life changes. And above all he was an incredible friend.
I keep thinking my connection with Hawkinson should be about introducing me to de Tocqueville or my deep love of the civility, intellect and political acumen of The Federalist Papers or the fact that 25 years after reading and discussing the book with him, I find myself in meetings with Federal Agency clients quoting Exit, Voice and Loyalty. Or our connection should be about his support of the student movement for divestment from South Africa or our mutual passion for student-led innovation and an engaging campus life. Or the hundreds of hours we spent over the last 27 years arguing politics . . . But no, it really is all about food.
Several memories that have flooded through my mind since Sunday the 22nd -
The Gatke Office Talks
In the basement of Gatke Hall, central casting has constructed the quintessential set for the beloved and absent-minded professor. Pine shelves floor to ceiling line three of the four walls groaning and creaking under the weight of books, books and more books. A narrow path snakes its way through stacks of books on the floor. To sit you must carefully remove a pile of books from the guest chair, carefully and conspicuously placing the student’s paper you have found in clear view so it might be noticed and graded (more on this later). And in the middle of it all, at a monolith of books (beneath which a desk supposedly exists) was bow tie-bedecked Professor Hawkinson.
Time stopped in the Gatke Office. As Hawkinson focused on your needs, inspired greater effort, gave a good piece of advice or handed you a book that you must read. But our conversations always worked their way to food. Now, truth be told, the Sue Leason buttered popcorn gauntlet could have had something to do with the subject of our talks. But never fail, we would start discussing Rousseau and find ourselves in a comparative analysis of a real Chicago hot dog and the hollow facsimile available on the West Coast. Deconstructing Kafka’s The Trial turned to reminiscing about knish. Or we would find a connection between Federalist Ten and the appropriate perfection of a Vanilla Malt served with breakfast at the Off-Center Café. And it was in the basement of Gatke where tales of the late-night epic Schezuan cooking feats of Hawkinson, the University of Chicago graduate student, came to be known, and inspired many late-night cooking fests among politics students of our era.
The Bistro Plotting, Planning and Tasting
“There is no place to go late at night and good coffee is impossible to find.”
That was the complaint of two Sophomore Poli Sci majors who decided to go see President Hudson. To our shock, Hudson says, “come back in a week with a business plan.” Do we go to the Econ Department for help? No. Do we even think to cross Winter Street to the Graduate School of Management? No. We make a beeline to Gatke and the basement office. Thus begins a year of discussions ranging from, “I used to teach at UC Santa Cruz – they have student-run coffee shops, let me connect you so you can go do research,” to “you know, you should have Quiche and Soup so people can recharge late at night.” Of course, as our official faculty advisor (just as he has been for dozens of student-led initiatives), he served as an advocate, as an offensive lineman when needed, and always as a coach. And back to the food theme, he also provided many a critical thumbs up and thumbs down as we tested recipes.
Tag Team for the American Political Thought Orals: or, what do Red Hook and onion rolls have to do with Selznick?
One of the best classes I ever took at Willamette was Hawkinson’s senior seminar on American Political Thought. Our small group of about 10 students would gather in the Eaton seminar room and debate that week’s reading (ranging from the correspondence of the framers to the use of television to shape the presidency)
with Hawkinson pushing us to express a strong point of view and for others to pose objections and alternatives. What could be more fun? But there remained the fact of the dreaded Oral. 60 minutes of being grilled by Hawkinson on everything and anything covered in the class. As a joke, John Donovan and I suggested to Hawkinson that the two of us should be able to do the Oral as a tag team and that it should be conducted over beers and sandwiches at Brice’s (Hawkinson’s favorite deli in the 80s). Not only did he agree, but he upped the ante: “Ok, but it will be two hours, I’ll come up with tougher questions and if you do well, I’ll buy the beers.” We had a blast. It was a tough exam (but the ability to high-five for the tag team help get us though and indeed Hawkinson picked up the tab.
The Chinese Dinner Ransom Payment
On graduation day, John and I compared notes and realized that neither of us had received our Senior Thesis papers back from Hawkinson. We approached him (resplendent in his University of Chicago regalia — including the very cool velvet beret) and asked about our papers. “Oh, they are safe and sound and you both did well. But I want to give some more comments as this will be the last feedback I give you.” As we packed up for post-Willamette life, we wondered could they be under the wrong pile of books in Gatke? A year passed. We saw Hawkinson at a young alumni gathering. Still safe and sound. Five years passed. “I am saving them as a gift for your 10th reunion.” The 10th reunion arrived and Hawkinson offered a deal: “I am saving your papers for your 20th, but I will cook you a gourmet Chinese Dinner to commemorate their ten-year anniversary.“ And what a meal it was.
Hawkinson came to Portland. Haggled at the Asian markets, assigned chopping and peeling duties to about 10 class of ‘88 alums gathered for the occasion, and made what seemed like a 12-course feast that will always be remembered as one of the best meals of my life.
The Retirement Dinner — otherwise known as the Great Foie Gras Uprising
After Hawkinson’s Retirement, a group of us invited him to Portland, where we would cook a dinner in his honor. Prior to dinner on a warm summer evening, we gathered on the front porch for cocktails and, of course, to talk politics. Suddenly we heard the sound of a crowd with chants, roars and yells. It was coming from Hawthorne Blvd. and Jon Radmacher went to investigate. “It’s a giant protest.” Well of course we had to go and see or participate. We rounded the corner to encounter a crowd of 50 – 100 very loud protesters. What were they protesting? Genocide? Clear cuts in the National Forest? The war in Iraq? No, they were protesting Foie Gras. And for some reason (the poorly written signs, the screaming of violent obscenities at the children sitting in the restaurant with their families or the sense that this was civil disobedience run amok), we committed an incredibly politically incorrect act and entered the restaurant to buy a drink in protest of the protest. We proceeded to have a great discussion on the nature of protest and political voice as well as the power and politics of food.
Food for Thought
Hawkinson fed our minds, fed our hunger for community engagement, fed our expectations of a more civil society and often fed us good food made better with great friendship. He embodied non nobis solum nati sumus – not unto ourselves alone are we born. Every year since I graduated, he has told me about and sought support from the community for amazing students he was helping to get a job (I have been fortunate to hire some of them), students he was helping find a computer, students he was helping go on a summer research experience by raising travel money, students he was helping get an internship and of course students on campus with great ideas he was helping get the support to become a reality. His priority was finding the talent and ability for contribution and community building in each of us and doing everything in his power to nurture and grow this potential. He is and will always be greatly missed. He is and will always be part of the fabric of Willamette. His Legacy will live on in our commitment to support students and to ensure their education in and out of the classroom sends them into the world with the ability and the conviction to have lives of contribution, success and meaning. Bob – Thank you for changing, improving and enriching so many of our lives and our community. There will always be a place for you at our figurative table and in our hearts.
Eric Friedenwald-Fishman Class of ‘88
June 5, 2011
Friday, June 3, 2011
Remembering Bob
I am typing this e-mail looking at the black chair next to my desk and Bob's pictures on the wall.
It was very sad and I came to realize that Bob was a very big part of my life. He made me very comfortable asking any of my questions and sharing my thoughts and opinions. I always admired the way he communicated with people. We enjoyed talking about cultural differences, trips and foods-restaurants. I miss him a lot and I still cannot believe he won't walk into Travel Center with a cup of coffee and cookies in his hands.
Mika Yamanaka
Travel Specialist - WU Travel Center
It was very sad and I came to realize that Bob was a very big part of my life. He made me very comfortable asking any of my questions and sharing my thoughts and opinions. I always admired the way he communicated with people. We enjoyed talking about cultural differences, trips and foods-restaurants. I miss him a lot and I still cannot believe he won't walk into Travel Center with a cup of coffee and cookies in his hands.
Mika Yamanaka
Travel Specialist - WU Travel Center
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Graduation 2007
 |
| Carolyn Burns, CM of Kaneko, Class of 2007 |
 |
| Maggie Shaneyfelt, First president of Kaneko, Class of 2007 |
Contributed by Carolyn Burns
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Bob and I shared our first class together in the Fall of 1982. He was the new professor in the Political Science and I was a befuddled freshman. I think most people recall those first days in college as intimidating, but Bob's warm personality and legendary sense of humor was comforting. Over the years he became my advisor and mentor. He challenged me and made me laugh. He was no ivory tower professor. Right now I can hear him in my mind lecturing about "eyewin triangles" in the basement of Gatke Hall and bragging about the '85 Bears.
After graduation I'd often see him at the grocery store or grabbing coffee. He always had time for me to chat. During his administrative tenure he often told me about how proud he was of the Willamette students and the positive things they were doing for the community.
At our 20th class reunion I had the opportunity to introduce my 5 year daughter to him. He couldn't have been more gracious. His recent passing sparked a conversation with her about teachers and what a huge impact they have on our lives.
I've always loved the Willamette motto - "not unto ourselves alone are we born." In my mind, Bob and his legacy embodies the motto.
Lindsay Partridge '86 JD '89
After graduation I'd often see him at the grocery store or grabbing coffee. He always had time for me to chat. During his administrative tenure he often told me about how proud he was of the Willamette students and the positive things they were doing for the community.
At our 20th class reunion I had the opportunity to introduce my 5 year daughter to him. He couldn't have been more gracious. His recent passing sparked a conversation with her about teachers and what a huge impact they have on our lives.
I've always loved the Willamette motto - "not unto ourselves alone are we born." In my mind, Bob and his legacy embodies the motto.
Lindsay Partridge '86 JD '89
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